


Right Next to You

by emynn



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynn/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't exactly the hot and sweaty Justin that Brian had been hoping to enjoy, but there's still nowhere he'd rather be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Next to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Britin 30 Day Challenge on Tumblr, Prompt #8: "Lay Me Down" by Sam Smith.

Barely able to see over the bags piled high in his arms, Brian shoved the door open with his hip … and immediately cursed as a sharp pain shot through his shin.

“Who puts a fucking couch right in front of the door?” he muttered. He didn’t bother picking up the bags that fell; there’d be no point, given there was hardly enough counter space to deposit them anyway. And it wasn’t like he’d have to haul the items all across the apartment, since the kitchen was about ten feet away from the door.

Hell, there probably were no two points in the whole apartment that were more than ten feet away from each other. 

“Eight hundred square feet, my ass,” Brian said, and brought the first bag into the area that passed for a kitchen. 

“Dana?”

“Checked herself into the Holiday Inn as you got your beauty sleep,” Brian said, clearing out some of the beer in the fridge to make room for the chicken. “And if you get your ass out of bed, I’ll take your balls and tie them around the bedposts.”

Brian turned, fully expecting see Justin running toward him anyway, entirely unmoved by his threats, just as he always was. However, while he _was_ out of bed, it was only barely, and it looked like he was leaning on the frame of the French doors leading to his bedroom not to look cool and unaffected, but because he might fall down if he didn’t. 

“Christ,” Brian said, taking in Justin’s pale and clammy skin, red nose, and puffy eyes. “You look like shit.”

“That’s the flu for you,” Justin said. 

“Right,” Brian said, returning to putting away all the items he’d purchased for Justin’s convalescence. He just wouldn’t think about all the germs probably dancing upon every surface of this place, then fucking each other to form thousands of other new, more vile germs. “Well, get back to bed. The last thing we need is to have to bring you in for a concussion because you passed out in your own apartment. Not that there’s room in this place to even fall in the first place.”

Justin smiled, but it was a pale imitation of his usual sunshine grin. “I was going to get some water,” he said. 

“I’ll bring you some,” Brian said. “Now, move.”

He managed to locate a tray, on which he piled a glass of water, a cup of tea, and some toast, and brought it into Justin’s room. Of course, then the question became where to put the fucking tray, given how there was barely any room to move in the room around his bed. Grumbling, Brian moved the lamp from Justin’s bedside table to the floor and set the tray in its place.

“I’d ask if you wanted to join me,” Justin said, patting the spot on the bed next to him. “But I know how you feel about germs.”

“I got my flu shot,” Brian said. He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his shirt, then joined Justin under the blankets. “And I drank orange juice the entire flight here.”

“You mean screwdrivers, I’m sure,” Justin said, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“You say potatoes, I say vodka,” Brian said. 

Justin laughed. “I still can’t believe you came. I told you I wouldn’t blame you if you stayed home.”

Brian frowned and handed Justin the plate of toast. There’d likely be crumbs in the sheets later, but that would hardly be the worst thing to be floating around this bed, given Justin had spent the last week with the flu with only his twat of a roommate to help him. Really, Brian didn’t have much of a choice in coming. He couldn’t let Justin die of influenza his first winter in the big city.

And, being totally honest, Brian didn’t have much of a choice in coming anyway. He’d been traveling so much for Kinnetik recently that it had been more than a month since he’d seen Justin, and he missed him like hell. There’d been a near constant ache in his chest that never seemed to completely fade away, whether he was getting blown in Babylon or fucking a waiter in San Francisco or having a threesome on a rooftop deck in Chicago. Everything just seemed a little darker without Justin’s presence. But the worst, by far, was always that moment just before Brian fell asleep, when his consciousness would fade just enough that he’d forget that Justin no longer lived with him, and he’d reach out for him. The disappointment of his fingers grasping only air had become his own personal painful lullaby.

When Justin had called him to warn him he’d caught the flu and likely wouldn’t be better by the time of Brian’s scheduled visit, Brian had been pissed for about three minutes. It was true; he was a bit of a germophobe. He’d send his staff home to work remotely at the first sign of any illness that could prove to be highly contagious and knock anybody out for longer than a day. His body was getting older and required constant and meticulous upkeep. He couldn’t risk damaging it with a bout of the flu or a stomach virus.

Except then he realized that when he heard Justin was sick, it only made him want to see him _more_. He needed to make sure he was all right, that he wasn’t trying to be a hero and downplay his symptoms. He wanted to lie by his side and feel his body warm against his.

Although, really, preferably not as warm as it currently was.

“What’s your temperature?” Brian asked.

Justin rolled his eyes. “101.2 as of an hour ago.”

Brian nodded. “And you’ve taking your medicine?”

“Yes, Nurse Nightingale,” Justin said. “Dana picked up a fresh package yesterday.”

“Good to know she’s good for something,” Brian muttered.

“You just don’t like her because she accidentally threw away your weed,” Justin said, a trace of a smile on his face. 

“Accident, my ass,” Brian said. “Why the fuck would there be bag of ‘moldy brussels sprouts’ left on the coffee table? I’m telling you, that bitch stole it.”

“She didn’t steal it,” Justin said, burrowing into Brian’s side. “You’ll just have to learn to be more careful with your things.”

“Guess so,” Brian said. He was about to begin a tirade about how Dana was a thoroughly incompetent roommate, how Justin’s apartment didn’t even have the essentials simply for living, let alone to get somebody through the flu, but then something else caught his eye. “What are you wearing?”

Justin’s cheeks flushed, and not with fever. “A shirt.”

“Not just _a_ shirt, you little shit,” Brian said, pulling back the blankets a bit so he could get a better look. “That’s my shirt.”

“You haven’t worn it in years,” Justin said. “You obviously didn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, because denim shirts haven’t been in style since 2003,” Brian said. “And, frankly, it’s a miracle I was able to pull it off. No offense, Sunshine, but you look like you belong in _Footloose_.”

“Well, I like it,” Justin said, not even looking remotely apologetic. “Always have. So when I saw it on your pile to be donated, I grabbed it.”

“And brought it all the way to New York,” Brian said. “If you’re going to steal my clothing, why don’t you at least steal something a little more on trend?”

“Because this one reminds me of you,” Justin said. “You always wore it when you were … soft.”

“Soft?” Brian asked, blinking. “Sunshine, I’m never soft. Especially not around you. It’s a condition.”

“Not that kind of soft,” Justin said. “You didn’t wear it when you were going to Babylon, or when you were hooking up with a trick. You wore it to David’s when we sat on the couch and made out instead of watching them go on and on about their trip to Paris. You wore it when you came to my house to help me toss the ball around. You wore it to Gus’ birthday party when you stayed with me the entire time to make sure I was okay. And you wore it when I walked down Liberty Avenue by myself for the first time after being bashed and then kissed me in the middle of the street in broad daylight.”

Brian’s throat felt suddenly dry, and he wondered if he’d managed to catch Justin’s flu already. 

“When you wore this shirt, it was me you were focusing on,” Justin said. “I knew you were thinking about me, that you’d protect me.” He pressed his lips to Brian’s cheek. “That you loved me.” 

Brian ran his hand through Justin’s hair. It was somewhat greasy and sticky with sweat. He remembered Justin telling him he’d found it painful to shower with all his body aches, and made a mental note to at least grab a damp wash cloth to clean him up a bit. Justin had done that for him when he’d been going through radiation therapy, and he’d found it surprisingly comforting. 

“You can tell me it’s stupid,” Justin said quietly. “But I’m not giving it up.”

“I was only going to tell you to put it through the gentle cycle,” Brian said, stroking Justin’s cheekbone. “Denim wears easily.” And then, softly, with the utmost care, he kissed Justin on the mouth.When Justin entangled his fingers in Brian’s hair, pulling him closer, Brian deepened the kiss, thrilled to feel Justin’s lips move beneath him in the way he’d missed so terribly. 

Justin pulled away abruptly, his breath coming in hard gasps. “Sorry,” he said, and Brian handed him the glass of water. “I get a bit winded these days.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I changed my flight,” Brian said, stroking his hair. “I’ll be staying two weeks instead of just the weekend.”

Justin’s grin was so broad Brian could see it even from behind the glass. “Really? Cynthia let you get away that long?”

“Cynthia isn’t the boss,” Brian scoffed. Besides, she’d packed him an entire briefcase worth of work to look at while he was away. “I figured if I stuck around for a while longer I’d have a better chance of you being well enough to blow me instead of just blowing your nose.”

Justin laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. “Sorry, sorry,” he said.

Brian pulled the blankets back and got out of bed. “What do you need?” he asked. “Cough drops? Your tea’s probably cold by now.”

Justin reached out an arm and grabbed Brian’s wrist. “Just lay down and stay with me?”

Brian sighed and returned to his spot in bed. Justin immediately curled around him, burying his head into the crook of his neck and pressing his lips to the skin there. Brian took his hand in his own, entwining their fingers together. 

It wasn’t the kind of hot and sweaty day in bed Brian had been anticipating. His limbs would probably all be asleep in twenty minutes, and he’d very likely end up spending his second week in New York dealing with his own aches and chills after Justin passed his flu onto him.

But there was absolutely nowhere in the world that he’d rather be.

Smiling, Brian drew Justin closer to him, feeling his shirt soft against his skin. He lightly kissed his forehead before closing his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of Justin breathing beside him, safe and protected in his arms.


End file.
